


For Queen and Crown

by tieria



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Post-Break Up, implied hireshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-14 16:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16916403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tieria/pseuds/tieria
Summary: Once upon a time, they had been everything- thieves and rulers and treasures sparkling bright enough to outshine even the moon. Ema had been magic and Queen had been poison, and no mortal man dared stand against them.(On a gloomy Tuesday afternoon, Ema receives an invitation to the Queen's high tea. She's not allowed to decline. Unfortunately, she's no longer naive enough to accept, either.)





	For Queen and Crown

**Author's Note:**

> For Vrains Rarepair Week Day Eight- [Royalty]!

On a gloomy Tuesday afternoon, Ema received an invitation to the Queen’s High Tea. It came in envelope gilded and golden, delivered to her door by her right hand himself- Zaizen Akira, offering up the letter like royal decree on her cottage doorstep. The irony of it all was not lost on her.

Ema took the envelope inside, flicked open the red seal with a butter knife, and frowned down at the script inside, elegant but utilitarian, paradoxical as the woman who’d penned it.

 _To My Dearest Ema_ ,

_It has been a small age since our last chat; I admit to hoping again for your company more nights than not. To that extent, I offer you my greatest invitation- tea in the Castle greenhouse, the day of the full moon. Nothing is required save your presence; we will not be disturbed._

_You may not decline._

_Forever Yours,_

_Queen_

 

Ema traced the signature with her fingertips and frowned wistful down at the letter. It had been so long since the last had come, since Ema had opened it with earnestness and held those words close to her chest, wishing she could return them. But still Ema wished that the letter had been anything else- for every citizen of the Kingdom knew that Queen’s tea was steeped in the most potent of poisons.

 

In their youth, they had been brilliant- twin jewels, two butterfly wings, the steel flash of daggers concealed under cloaks and poisons painted sweet on rouge lips.

There was no treasure that was barred from their hands, no schemes too daring for their soaring ambitions. Information came easily as jewels, turned to gold beneath their touch. The night embraced them; in turn they reveled in the depths of it, in the midnight hours of schemers and witches and creatures that would not the sunlight touch.

Oh, and this time it had been _glorious_. The Royal Conservatory had simply no _right_ to the treasures of the old world, stolen in the old days of war. _They’re your birthright, Ema,_ Queen had told her, pressing the information into her palm and curling it in tight. A promise of trust. An invitation to follow Queen’s lead, done up in delicate script and red ribbon thing the parchment closed. _Follow me, and take them back._

And Ema, drawn in by the promise of adventure, by the allure of Queen and her schemes, had done so with relish.

Her hair sparkled with diamonds, shifting gently as Ema threaded her fingers through. She glowed in the moonlight filtering in through the thin curtains of their hideout; drunk off their victory they hardly cared for the dust that danced about them.

Ema leaned in and kissed the red off her lips- for Queen was human but Ema was _other_ , a creature of the old world for which the humans had no name. Poison might kill a mortal man, but to Ema the bite of it was but a thrill.

“Ema,” Queen said sweetly in the way when she wanted something so desperately, “Ema, my _darling_.”

Ema pulled back, because the look in her eyes was intoxicating. It was a look only for Ema, for her very greatest treasure. Queen stared back at her, and Ema knew the look in her eyes was the very same.

They were brilliant. They were eternal. Whatever they set their sights on, they could _take._ And, like a promise sweet as sugar, Queen breathed into Ema’s lips- “I want the _crown.”_

 

Ema stepped inside the Palace with escorts on her left and right, impenetrable walls of men that Ema knew must cower before their ruler. Spineless, but smart. There wasn’t a man alive who could stand against Queen and come out the week alive. The palace was empty; no sign of her fabled servants haunting the halls.

No, Ema supposed- they wouldn’t. Queen hardly trusted those that walked the light. Rather than the freedom of the night, Queen had always loved what dwelled in it. It had taken Ema far too many steps into the waking world to realize that.

They led Ema to the greenhouse- a room draped in verdant flowers and vines, trees flowering in pink blossoms fading slow to white. Beneath them Queen sat waiting, poised and prim and exuding all the power she’d clawed from the hands of more fortunate men. The crown sat elegant atop her head, trailing a string of precious stones down through her short hair. Ema let out a soft little breath. Queen always had looked most radiant when adorned.

 _“Ema,”_ she said, and her name on Queen’s lips was everything. But she could not fall. Queen snapped her fingers, and the attendant came to pull out her chair- a small and dainty thing set across the table full of sweets. Ema swept neatly into it; at the wave of Queen’s hand the attendant scurried from the greenhouse. The gentle click of the door behind him was almost drowned out by the slide of Queen’s pearl bracelets, the soft _clink_ of steel against platter as Queen sliced through the centerpiece- a small but lavish brown cake, layered with pure chocolate and drizzled in raspberry sauce.

“I do remember how you love chocolate,” Queen said, setting the slice of cake before Ema. Anyone else might have considered it an honor- their last meal, served by the Queen of the land. Ema stared down at it and wondered what poisons she’d ordered baked in with the butter. As if reading her mind, Queen delicately plucked a raspberry from atop Ema’s cake and ate it with a smile like a challenge.

“Do eat up. There’s no poison, after all.”

 

They had been beautiful. A force. Men learned to fear the threat of their names- the Ghost and the Queen. The ruler and her agent of mischief, two thieves in the night. They sent no warnings; a man would go to sleep rich and wake with his estate hollowed and coffers empty, gold and silver and jewels plucked out from under his nose.

But Ema never had condoned killing. To rob a man blind was one matter- there was no feudal lord or old blood that wouldn’t benefit from learning how the rest of the world lived. But to take a life was something else entirely, a great crime of the ages that would strike her from her magic and drag the world down through to burn below.

They stood together in the lap of luxury, tapestries illustrating a dynasty fluttering about them as storm winds howled through the open window. Queen turned on her heel at Ema’s call, shoes tapping twice against the cold stone; Ema closed the distance between them with steps silent on tiptoes.

“Don’t do this,” Ema said, not a plea but not quite a demand- even in the old days, she’d never been able to make demands of her. She reached out a hand, trailed fingertips down Queen’s arm, a touch that begged understanding.

With a soft look- a sweet look, the kind that Queen spared only for her- Queen lifted her hand to swipe her thumb over Ema’s cheek, pearled bracelets clattering soft with the motion. Her hand sank lower, Queen leaned forwards, as if for a kiss-

“I won’t let you stop me, Ema,” Queen said, and sunk the needle into Ema’s neck. Ema staggered back a step- it was as far as she got before her knees gave out from under her, hand coming up to her neck, clumsy fingers grasping numb for the needle she could feel cold as death there.

 _Don’t do this_ , Ema wanted to say, though even her best efforts failed. But the look in her eyes must have been enough. Queen kneeled down, brushed Ema’s bangs back from her forehead with delicate fingers.

“I love you,” Queen said, “but you can’t stop me. And you’re a fool to try, darling.”

With that, Queen floated down the hallway in the clothes of a simple serving maid, poison bottles in her pockets and afternoon tea fit for a King to brew. Ema’s vision went blurry, then black- but through it all she saw Queen’s back, a silhouette that struck Ema breathless even as she sank into the knowledge that this was the end.

 

Ema drank. The tea was subtle- delicate florals with a hint of fruit, the color made soft with hints of pink petals. It was rich- in another life, she’d have called it utterly divine. Ema swallowed, then paused- she’d perhaps grown too used to the bite of poison, over the years.

“It’s delicious.”

Queen only smiled at her, knowingly over the rim of a teacup. “How are your plans with Zaizen coming along?”

The cup almost fell from Ema’s hand- but only almost. The tea wobbled close to the rim of the cup but not a drop fell to sully the white tablecloth. Queen wouldn’t have been pleased with that.

Across the table, Queen set her own cup down with a small clink of cup against saucer, then leaned forwards, resting her head delicate in a hand- a gesture so delicate it was surely all for show.

“Oh, how you underestimate me, Ema. Did you think I was unaware of Zaizen’s little escapades? All the excuses he made to see you alone? I know you when you’re scheming. That’s always when you’ve been most gorgeous.”

Queen was enamored with all things beautiful; Ema found herself flattered and flustered in turns that the woman had fallen in love with _her._ She’d be lying to say Queen’s words didn’t send a flutter through her then. An old love. Ema wondered how long it would haunt her.

“I’ll tell you now that you won’t succeed,” Queen said, waiting not for her response, “you know how many have tried. But I won this throne. I have no intentions of giving it up.”

“Not after all you’ve done to get here. Not after you’ve found yourself riches,” Ema said, not quite an accusation- if she were to do that, then perhaps Queen might really have her head. Ema was a bit less immune to that than poison.

And to that, Queen simply laughed. It was a beautiful sound- high and charming and full of grace and poise. It was the first thing of Queen’s that Ema had fallen in love with. Here and now, it was an ugly, haughty sound. “I’ve reclaimed my birthright.”

 

When Ema was young- when she was no more than a child, she stumbled out into the woods to stare longingly across the border. The human world there was but a mystery clouded behind a hazy barrier, illuminated only by the words of other, older creatures. She spent long evenings listening to the stories of the elders, adorned in their treasures taken from the human world in the old days, enraptured by the simple world painted in their tales.

Yes, thought Ema, slipping through the woods with only her firefly lights to guide her way, she did so love the barrier and its magic. Every day did she measure herself against it, tugging against the fabric that made up her being and weighing herself against its touch. One day, she swore, she’d be strong enough to cross it. One day, she swore, _she’d_ be the one with stories to tell.

It was on another such day that Ema wove her way towards the borderline, feeling the weight of it heavy against her, slowing her steps and dulling her thoughts, warning her away- though Ema never listened. Her senses were strong; she had nothing to fear. Not most days, anyway.

But today Ema paused, her fireflies dancing about her in a hazy frenzy. Something wasn’t right. Ema closed her eyes, opened her mind- and there. Ema sucked in a thin breath, tasting the ozone and the old magic hanging brittle in the air, the sign of the barrier disturbed. It was a taste that crackled across Ema’s tongue like electricity, enticing enough that the dark things would soon come to investigate.

She’d been warmed a thousand times over- _don’t linger where the dark will come. Don’t let the poison into your veins, child, because the moment you dare is the moment you’re tainted to our world. Only the pure can remain. Don’t damn yourself with the stories of the humans and their false treasures._

But Ema was strong. She wouldn’t fall, wouldn’t falter. Against the curl of fear clawing through her chest, Ema steeled herself and stepped further into the borderland.

Her movements were slow, every step a struggle- her vision went blurry as her fireflies fell away from her one by one, landing lifeless at her feet. But she couldn’t give up, Ema thought, freezing at the very edge of a clearing- for there was something she’d never seen before, placed back against a tree.

“Wake up,” Ema said, calling to the girl from a distance, toes curling nervous into the bare earth. “Can you hear me? Wake up.”

But the girl collapsed with hands and legs bound beside the tree didn’t stir. Perhaps she was already dead, thought Ema. Perhaps she should go now, before the darkness came to eat her up. Perhaps, perhaps. The girl’s chest moved, just a tiny, shallow breath, and Ema took a step forwards.

The distance between them was not large, and yet to Ema did it feel like crossing a canyon. She began to struggle for breath, felt as if her body would collapse out from under her and she’d become nothing but a cloud of fireflies, dancing away on the wind. This, she thought, must have been what it was like to cross the border.

“Wake up,” Ema called again- for she was sure that the other girl was on her side- a human in a place where they weren’t allowed to go.

The girl was so close, now. Like pushing through against the waves, Ema took a final few steps before stumbling down to her side. Ema set tentative hands on her shoulders, shaking them slightly, watching her chest move. Up close, they seemed to be the same age- but human lives could be so short, the elders always said. Ema could only wonder.

Another call for the girl to wake did nothing; for lack of anything better to do, Ema untied the ropes at her hands and feet. They’d left ugly red marks on her pale skin, cut deep and left bloody red scars where she’d struggled.

If the girl wouldn’t wake up, Ema thought, trying to loop her arms beneath the girl’s legs, around her shoulders, trying desperately to pick her up, then perhaps Ema could take her back over. If she had to, perhaps she could hide her somewhere while she regained her strength- but while she was fluttering about in anxious thoughts, the girl half in her arms opened her eyes.

Ema took a gasping breath, scrambled backwards as the strange human child took in Ema with sharp eyes, pushing herself to her feet with nails digging tight into the bark of the tree behind her. Only as she stood did Ema finally find her voice again for a question soft and breathless, “What happened to you?”

“They threw me out,” said the child, cold and composed where any other would be crying and flustered. “They found out. And so they threw me out.”

“What did they find?” Ema asked, because this girl was intriguing in her strength. No human had ever survived on this side of the world. Not a single one had ever so much as _stood._

“That I lived,” the girl replied, staring at Ema with a fire in her eyes. And in that moment, though she’d been far too young to understand- Ema had been stolen away.

(She only learned the entire story in retrospect, filtered down to her through the lens of rumor and holes where the woman now Queen had erased the truth.

The King. An illegitimate child, too dear to condemn to death by throwing through the border, but too shameful to allow into the royal line. So the King had made a compromise- kept the girl as a servant, brought her mother in as cook to staff the palace kitchens. The affair would end, the girl would be safe, and the mistress secure in the palace for the rest of her days.

The affair didn’t end, of course.

When the scandal had come to light, it had been the uproar of the court- a halfblood commoner would ruin the line of succession, born as she was a year before the Queen’s son- a fragile, sickly boy but pure of birthright. The King had made a choice- one that had never been a choice, not really- and the girl had been lost. Stripped of her name, of her blood right, of everything but her life itself.)

And, Ema thought, lacing their young hands together and tugging the small girl back towards the village- the girl had been found again.

 

How Ema wished she could tell Queen she had no right to the throne, not with bloodied hands, no right to the money she’d inherited upon the death of the family that had rejected her. But the world had fallen on her side, and the crown sat on her head. If Ema were to reject her now, then she’d condemn herself to death.

“I think,” said Queen as Ema set down her cup atop the saucer with a delicate _clink,_ “that we’ve run out of tea.”

“A shame,” replied Ema, pushing her saucer neatly towards the center of the table- showing Queen the proof she’d drank it all. “I’ve always thought your tea is delicious.”

Full of poison- but Ema had already been poisoned long, long ago. Another cup of it was nothing to her now. Queen laughed. It was cold. “You flatter me.”

Ema said nothing in response- simply pulled her cloth napkin from her lap and draped it over the teacup.

“Let me see you to the door,” said Queen, but Ema stood with a scrape of her chair against harden stone.

“I know my way out.”

Queen stood too, rising elegant and soundless. Ema didn’t waste time watching- instead she started towards the door, their steps echoing in time against the high glass roof- the light hit of boots, the pointed tap of heels. Queen kept pace exactly at her side like the old days had never passed them by. Neither of them voiced it, but the thought wasn’t missed as their hands brushed, as Ema stepped forwards to set her fingertips against the greenhouse door. They swung open without so much as a sound.

Ema stepped forwards, over the threshold- but just before she could leave entirely, Queen reached out to seize her wrist. With poison protests on her lips Ema turned- but in a single motion, Queen stole her words from her.

“I did so miss you, darling,” Queen said, and bowed her head with a soft clatter of polished jewels to kiss Ema’s free hand, lips brushing gentle over her fingers. Her eyes darted up, meeting Ema’s with playful grace.

A Queen bowed for no one, save her love- and her love bowed for no one, not even Queen. Not any longer.

“Goodbye,” Ema said, stepping backwards over the threshold. Queen’s gaze on her would have been paralyzing in its intensity to anyone else.

“Please do come again, darling,” Queen said, tilting her head with a tiny, devilish smile, “And if you ever decide you miss the _thrill_ of it… I’ll always have a place waiting.”

“Goodbye,” Ema repeated- firmer, her resolution unwavering- and then the grand doors of the greenhouse swung shut between them. And even in that tiny gap, the moment before they shuddered closed, Ema’s very last sight was the small, confident smile painted on Queen’s lips.

And as the doors echoed behind her, Ema turned away. She wouldn’t hesitate. She wouldn’t falter. The past was the past, and no longer would treasure blind her so easily.

Guards at her either side, Ema stalked her way out of the palace, head held high and determination renewed even as poison coursed through her veins- this had changed nothing.

_Time to overthrow a Queen._


End file.
